Nameless
by Tears of Stardust
Summary: When the line between good and evil becomes blurred, what's to stop one from going astray?
1. Forced To Run

  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for the idea for my story.  
  
The cool summer's night air caressed her skin, beckoning her to join in the forays of the  
night, yet carrying with it the pungent smell of smoke, and this caused her to run faster, to  
escape the demon brought forth this night.  
  
Her heart thudded violently against her rib cage as she ran through the glade of bulrushes,  
not looking back to see if her pursuers still followed. She didn't even slow down when she came  
across a bog, struggling through the muddy water as it dampened the tips of her long silver hair.  
  
She heard the triumphant call of one of the men, summoning the others to come and help  
him capture the sorceress. This only caused her to struggle against the water further, obeying  
only the primeval instinct inside her that said run.  
  
She reached the edge of the bog and climbed out onto the steep embankment, holding on  
to saplings and low branches to help her up.  
  
Her small brown wrap was wet, hindering her progress further. She decided against  
taking it off and exposing herself to the elements, instead turning and fleeing into the nearby  
woods.  
  
She ran through the grove of trees, the pine needles on the forest floor pricking her bare  
feet as she ran.  
  
She decided to chance a look back to see if she was still being followed and she tripped  
over a tree root that jutted out of the ground, sending her sprawling on to the forest floor.  
  
Pain shot through her entire being and her body begged her to linger awhile on the sweet-  
smelling carpet of pine needles. Her mind was to have none of that and screamed at the young  
girl to continue running, for the bounty hunters could appear and be upon her at any time.  
  
She picked herself up again and started to run, a pitiful cross between a limp and a  
stagger.  
  
Suddenly, she heard another voice, this one closer than the last. She started to run faster,  
but was mesmerized by the flare that arched it's way over the treetops and exploded in a splash  
of red, for one instance in time blocking out even the light of the stars.  
  
She whirled around as she heard the sound of approaching voices, then the snap of a gun  
being loaded.  
  
A sense of dread washed over her, causing her small body to shiver uncontrollably. She  
knew that she couldn't get away, and was tired of running.  
  
Then an idea came to her, one born from pure desperation and a lack of options. She ran  
over to a nearby tree, and began to climb, the rough bark scratching her bare arms and once  
almost causing her to lose her grip and fall to the forest floor.  
  
When she felt that she was out of sight, she peered down through the branches of the tree  
to watch the events unfold below.  
  
The two men that she had heard walked under the tree and just kept on walking, not  
noticing a being watching them from above.  
  
The girl leaned back against the trunk of the tree and closed her eyes, feeling a wave of  
fatigue overcome her. She slowly drifted off to sleep, to be plagued with dreams of the past and  
of things yet to come. 


	2. Starting of the Ripple

Part 2  
  
Early dawn filtered through the trees, beckoning the young girl to awaken and continue on her  
way. She opened her sapphire eyes and saw the forest awakening all around her.  
  
She strecthed as best as she could, feeling a stiffness in her neck from sleeping in an awkward  
position.  
  
The girl made her way down the tree and (from the remembrance of last night's ordeal) made her  
way more cautiously down than in her entire seven and a half years of life.  
  
When she reached the forest floor, she began to wonder where she was, her disorientation from  
the mad dash made last night returned in full force. If only those men hadn't chased her . . .  
  
Hot tears pricked her eyes and threatened to spill over as she remembered those men barging  
into her small home and slaying her parents in cold blood. They had been after only her, and she  
had fled into the night to escape their wrath.  
  
  
She shook her head as if to dispel such thoughts, fighting back her tears. She was always taught  
to be like a rock, to not let little things get to her. But isn't it the little ebb of water that changes  
the rock from stone to sand?  
  
The girl scanned the forest once more, then settled on walking in one direction. She had heard  
her father talk about a village to the south of their home where he often traded goods, but she  
didn't know which way was south.  
  
She remembered her mother as saying something about how the moss of a tree only grows on  
one side . . .but which direction? She bit down on her lower lip in thought as she walked, the  
metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.  
  
The girl reached up and touched her amulet, a small slab of granite with a mysterious and  
intricate design carved into it. Her mother had given it to her on her sixth birthday, claiming that  
it would protect her from harm.  
  
She then let grief overcome her, sitting on the forest floor and rocking back and forth, tears  
streaming down her face. Looking back, the girl had no recollection of how long she sat there  
sobbing, it could have been anywhere from five minutes to three hours.  
  
A strange smell quieted her sobs, and beckoned her to notice it. It tickled her her nostrils and  
tugged at her memory, a familar smell that she just could not place.  
  
Smoke! The girl stood up, trying desperately to figure out where the smell was coming from.  
  
She decided to go one way, figuring that it did her no good to just sit in one spot of the forest  
anyway.  
  
The girl didn't have far to walk until she heard the jovial laughter of men, and the smell of fresh  
venison cooking upon a fire.  
  
She stayed out of the sight of these men, and struggled to make out what they were saying, as she  
wasn't very fluent in the language they were speaking.  
  
"I can't wait until we get back home; although this venison is good, my wife could cook it  
better!"said a burly , red-headed man as he began to laugh, his two comrades joining him in his  
merriment as their laughter joined together.  
  
The young girl studied the man closer, noting his brown vest over top of a dirty white t-shirt. He  
wore loose brown slacks and black steel-toed boots, typical garb of a lumberjack. His curly red  
hair hung into his green eyes, causing him to constantly push it away. He also sported a  
muscular build, another characteristic of a lumberjack.  
  
"But either one of our wives could cook it even better than that!" A tall, thin, balding man  
crowed, causing a peal of nervous laughter from the third man, and the red-haired to  
unconciously clench and unclench his fists. The man who had made the comment seemed  
immensely proud of himself, poking at the fire with a gnarled stick he had found while  
chuckling under his breath.  
  
The third man stirred restlessly in his spot on the fallen log, his eyes keep shifting toward the  
brown folds of cloth-like material that substituted for a tent. The girl examined this man closely  
as well, noting the close-cropped brown hair and bit of stubble on his chin. He had shifty gray  
eyes, and the same garb as the other two men covering his slightly plump frame.  
  
Suddenly a figure poked his head out of the tent, and the girl's breath was taken away. He  
looked a little older than she was; maybe nine or ten, but that wasn't why she stayed crouched  
with the absencse of air in her lungs. For what she could see, he was almost god-like; the sun  
filtered through the trees and hit his dark brown hair, resting upon his golden highlights. His  
eyes were a beautiful combination of blue and gold, filled with the promise of young life and  
adventures waiting to happen. "Papa, there's someone watching us," the young boy said, his eyes  
narrowing into slits as he scanned the foliage around him.  
  
The seated men looked at each other nervously, until the man with the red hair stood up,  
unsheathing a dagger. He grasped it's diamond hilt tightly, the blade flashing dangerously in the  
sunlight and striking fear into the young girl.  
  
She stood up and began to run, fearing the man, but two powerful strides from the red-haired  
giant allowed him to catch up to her and grasp her forearm in a grip of steel.  
  
"What is it Ivan?" the gray-eyed man asked nervously from his position on the log.  
  
The young girl struggled against the man with all her might, but it was an effort in futility as the  
hulking man wouldn't let go. "It's a girl, a young one too." Ivan dragged her out into the little  
clearing by the logs, and held her there as if she were a rare animal fit only to show.  
  
"She's too young to be wandering off by herself," the tall, thin man remarked. "What if she's the  
one those SeeDs are looking for?"  
  
"Those bastards won't get ahold of her, Beck." Ivan began, unconsciously tightening his grip on  
the girl's forearm. She cried out, her upper arm feeling as though it were on fire. "Oh, sorry  
about that," he mumbled as he released his grip on her arm.  
  
The girl stepped back, rubbing her arm. All of their eyes were on her, piercing her to her very  
core. She glanced over at the woods, figuring out her options. If she could make it out into  
there again, then maybe . . .  
  
A hand on her shoulder caused her to spin around in astonishment as she came face-to-face with  
the young boy, his eyes gazing into hers. Unlike the others, his gaze seemed soft, as though he  
felt sorry for her. She trembled when he reached out his hand to her, a slight smile on his face.  
  
"It's ok, you can trust me. I'm Ryan Leonhart, and you are . . .?" 


	3. The Power of a Name

centerPart 3/center

"I . . . I am kalled Honeybee," she managed to stammer slowly, his thick accent creeping into her speech and causing all those present to look at her with confusion writ upon their features.  She swallowed hard, and glanced at the entire group, afraid she might have done something to anger them.

Ivan observed her closely, then a smile lit up his face and he laughed loudly, causing the girl in the clearing to flinch.  "That's what your parents called you, didn't they?"  When the girl nodded solemnly, he let out another hardy chuckle.  "Well Honeybee, where are your parents?"

Honeybee frowned for moment, and then was almost overcome by a wave of shock and grief that overcame her.  The smell of the fire and of her parents' rotting flesh began anew in her memory, and she threw her hands in front of her face and began to cry.

Beck, Ivan, and the other man present all exchanged a glance.  It was obvious that the bloodthirsty SeeDs that had come to their campsite last night in hopes of finding the Sorceress had killed the little girl's parents.  Little did they know that this single act of kindness to a poor orphaned girl who would have died on her own in the forest would be their downfall.  

Ivan bent low and came face-to-face with Honeybee, gently prying her hands away from her face.  "Hey, look up at me.  We're not going to let those awful people get you, okay?  You can come and stay with us."

The silver-haired girl peeked through her fingers and saw that Ivan was serious with his proposal.  She took a sidelong glance at Ryan, and he seemed a little confused about the whole event but was smiling nonetheless.  In his smile she melted, and gathered the courage to nod to Ivan.  Honeybee couldn't bring herself to stay away from Leonhart.

center* * * * * */center 

"Hmm . . . she looks to be a very strong and resourceful young one, doesn't she?"  

After Honeybee had agreed to go with Ivan and all the other people from the village, they had taken her immediately to the village's headwoman, a woman named Kayla who was the overseer to the entire village's functions.  They were on a platform in front of a crowd of people, a simple thing made of little more than old wooden planks surrounded by those who had heard the news of the child and had gathered around to see what was happening.

Ivan shifted slightly from where he stood on the platform to the headwoman's left, along with the rest who had made camp when they found Honeybee.  "With all due respect, resourceful or not, she wouldn't have survived very long on her own out there.  She's only a child."

Kayla looked at the child more closely, studying her brown wrap with more interest than anything else.  A strand of long, ebony hair fell down into her face and Kayla brushed it away with a hand darkened the colour of coffee by the sun.  "What is your name child?"

"Honeybee," she answered, nervously starting to fidget under the older woman's hazel eyes.  The girl had a hard time discerning the other woman's age: at times, she looked as young as 25 while others she seemed as old as 40.

Kayla let out a soft chuckle and smiled down upon the girl.  "You, my dear, are definitely not a Melissa.  Come, look deep into my eyes."  Kayla crouched down and looked, searching through Honeybee's eyes as cloudy hazel met clear sapphire.

Their gazes remained locked for a few moments, the crowd holding it's breath as they awaited the fate of the name that Kayla would bestow upon the small child.  It was a long-holding tradition that the headwoman would name each babe with their true name, the one they were born into this world with.

Suddenly, Kayla rocked back on her heels, stunned by what she had seen in the child's eyes.  Honeybee stepped back uncertainly, fearing that the headwoman would utter some curse upon her and send her back out into the forest.  Honeybee didn't want that.  She wanted to stay with Ryan.

"Your new name will be Azala, child."  Kayla picked herself up and dusted the dirt off of her red skirt and top.  "It suits you very well."

Beck stirred from where he stood, and stepped forward to address the headwoman.  "What does it mean?"

The headwoman just looked at him and shook her head as though Beck were a pupil who wasn't learning a simple lesson fast enough.  "Names are a powerful thing, Beck.  Their power shouldn't be given away to the whole world.  It's like a wish; once it has been told, it loses it's magic."  

She walked over to Azala and knelt by her, looking the silver-haired child in the eyes.  Kayla nodded to herself as if affirming something, and then leaned in closer to Azala, so that her lips were just brushing the child's ear.  "Ultimate."


	4. Back To Start

Part 4  
  
The cool summer breeze lifted Azala's silver hair off of her back, and she laughed as Ryan tried to perform another cartwheel to copy Azala's graceful acrobatics. It had been 10 years ago that Azala had come to the village, and presently the duo had been out on a hill overlooking the small village for a while practicing cartwheels, the houses below looking about the size of a very large tree stump. Smoke curled out of several of the chimneys down below, the product of someone baking a meal for the hungry mill workers when they got home for their lunch break.  
  
The small village that Azala and Ryan lived in was known as a "Free Floater", meaning that it was a society that rejected the technology and advancements of today and chose instead to live a quiet and peaceful life close to nature and all it's creatures.  
  
"Hey, show me that move again Azala," Ryan laughed from his position sprawled across the lush green grass that carpeted the entire land around them. "I think I might get it this time."  
  
Azala only smiled and, with a small bow, she threw her hands up in the air and flung herself to the ground, the palms of her hands catching her and wheeling her from the inverted state she was in to one of standing again. "It's not all that hard Ryan. Maybe you just don't have the skill."  
  
Ryan arched an eyebrow at Azala, mischief glinting in his blue-gold eyes. "That so? Well, if I want to be the best, then I guess I have to take out the best." He lunged at Azala's knees, knocking at the back of them to bring her down to the grass with him. She fell rather ungracefully on top of Ryan, laughing as she went down.  
  
They rolled off of each other and gazed upward at the clear cerulean sky, only dotted by a few fluffy clouds that slowly made their way across the wide expanse of the sky. Azala closed her eyes and smiled, feeling the soft rays of the sun dance across her face. She wished that things would always stay this way; that she could always reside here, in this moment, with Ryan. She doubted that life could get much better than it was.  
  
Ryan propped himself up on one elbow and looked at Azala closely, a strange look evident in his eyes. They seemed to search her face, as though he were looking for something to make itself apparent in her features. "Hey. . . do you ever wonder about your parents? What they were like and all that?"  
  
The young woman flinched involuntary, the question striking a deep spot within her psyche. "I sometimes wonder, late at night, when no one is around. But then I'll get so angry, knowing that my parents were murdered by those bastard SeeDs. I just don't know what to think . . . it's almost pointless, in a way. I'll never get to know if I was right about them anyway."  
  
Ryan nodded, and then leaned in a little closer to Azala, so much that she could feel his breath tickle her cheek. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."  
  
He leaned in and kissed Azala, and her first reaction to the soft pressure on her lips was to pull back in astonishment. These thoughts were soon dispelled, however, when she realized what was really going on. Ryan Leonhart was kissing her. It was something she had dreamed of for as long as she could remember, the feeling stemming from the very moment when she had met him as the breath-taking little boy in the clearing. Azala would have a move if she knew that Ryan had felt the same way, but he had always seemed to act like her brother instead of someone who was interested in her.  
  
Azala began to give in to the kiss, snaking her hands around to the back of Ryan's neck to pull him closer when the acrid smell of smoke began to drift into her nostrils. Apparently Ryan smelled it too, and they pulled apart, both looking for the source of the smell.  
  
It didn't take them long to discover that the smell was coming from the houses below in the village; they were burning down! People ran to and fro in the small streets as the flames on the buildings grew higher. On closer examination, Azala could make out that there were two distinct groups of people on the ground below them. One of them was obviously the village people, as evidenced by their attempts to try to extinguish the greedy flames from eating their houses. The other ones were set apart from the rest, all dressed in uniforms and they seemed to watch with a sort of queer fascination as the fire engulfed the houses of the village.  
  
"SeeDs," Ryan hissed through his breath, and he shot Azala a fearful look.  
  
The realization hit Azala like a load of bricks, immediately making her feel nauseated and bringing her to her knees, Azala's breathing coming in short little gasps. Down below her were the people who had killed her parents, the ones who were the tyrants of this world. Ice-cold terror circulated through her veins and her mouth went completely dry as fear overwhelmed her senses.  
  
Ryan turned to look at Azala, and she saw her fear mirrored in his own eyes. "My dad's down there. I have to go and help him." He turned to look back at the buildings, licked his lips and then turned to glance back at Azala. "You should get away from here. They were after you before, they might be after you again."  
  
The silver haired maiden nodded in ascent as she stood up with Ryan. He gave her one last pained expression before he took off down the hill, running wildly against time to save the life of the only parent he had left. At the bottom of the hill, the SeeDs began to mobilize, and Azala watched with growing horror at what took place. They began to systematically execute all the villagers running around, moving their force like a plague to sweep through and destroy everything in its path.  
  
Azala screamed down to Ryan, hoping that he would be able to hear her over the crackling of the flames and the screaming of those who had just had their lives forcibly extracted from them. As she watched the youth make his descent down the hill, she watched with horror as a stream of machine gun fire, the impact forcing his body to fly backwards and hit the ground, cut him down.  
  
Fighting the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her senses again, Azala began to run to the tree line of the clearing, hoping once again that she could elude her SeeD pursuers in the woods as she did once so long ago. As Azala made her way into the shaded forest, her mind split and tumbled into darkness. 


	5. Insanity

Part 5  
  
How would you feel if your life were yanked away from you twice during a 16- year period, with no other place for you to go and no one else to run to? Azala's mind had become a shattered mirror of twisted thoughts and ideas, a warped pool of half-baked memories and emotions. Madness had engulfed her young body and it refused to relinquish its grip.  
  
'They killed Ryan. They killed Ryan. They killed Ryan." The thought had become like a broken record that has been neglected and it still hitting upon the same area over and over again to produce the same noise repeatedly. Azala clung to that idea, that one thought that seemed to be the only thing clear in her confused brain.  
  
A band of SeeDs appeared before her, blocking her from venturing any further into the forest. It seemed that they weren't as stupid as the young silver-haired woman had thought.  
  
One of the group said something and held up his hand as though to tell her to stop where she was. Azala only grimaced, a pounding headache starting to ache behind her left temple. The faces of those before her had become blurry, but that was fine. The headache was also okay. All she could make out were the distinctly coloured SeeD uniforms, and that was enough.  
  
She reached her hand straight up in the air, feeling a ball of magic collect in the palm, which burned with an ice blue flame. The person in front of her and the others tried to pull out their weapons to stop her, but they were too slow. Much too slow.  
  
Azala's arm was a blur as she brought her arm down, releasing the sphere of energy collected there. The SeeDs didn't have a chance. It smashed into the group of them, knocking every single one over. Most of them died on the magical impact. Those were the lucky ones. The ones who remained writhed in agony on the forest floor, their skin as though it were liquid, slowly trickled off their bodies.  
  
The Sorceress saw none of this, her eyes clouded to the pain all around her that she had inflicted upon them. It felt right to her that they should die. Those SeeDs. . . they were like locusts, killing and destroying wherever they went. If things were Azala's way, she would change that. If things were her way, there would be no SeeDs: past or present.  
  
Oblivious to the branches slapping at her body and face, Azala ran through the forest, the pine needles which carpeted the ground poking through the soft soles of her shoes. Azala didn't mind; there was somewhere she had to go, something she had to do. She felt the presence in the back of her mind, cruel Destiny playing with the fabric of her life and shaping her into something, something that she would have despised if she could pull out of the pool of insanity that threatened to drown her.  
  
Suddenly, the trees ended and Azala found herself on the edge of the desert, nothing but hard-packed earth surrounding her. She wanted to rest, to just sit down and cry for moment, to let the events of the past hour wash over her. The voice was incessant, however, and Azala was left on her feet, running across the desert.  
  
The sun beat mercilessly down upon the young Sorceress, but she refused to slow down or stop, ignoring the thirst that dried out her throat and made her feel light-headed. Anyone else would have died out in the barren wastelands of the Centra continent, but with the power of a sorceress pulsing through her veins, Azala found the strength to continue on until she reached a small building, standing out in the middle of nowhere.  
  
It was located on a peninsula not far from her village by any means of transportation, but by foot it was an exhausting journey and the sun was sitting low on the horizon when Azala finally reached the tiny building. The facility was run down, and the lighthouse that was not far from the building was in shambles, the light no longer roving the sea to alert passing ships.  
  
Stepping into the stone archway the door formerly stood in, Azala walking into the cool interior of the building. The shadows were lengthening outside, which made it increasingly difficult to discern anything from inside. She tripped over an overturned chair and almost went sprawling to the floor, but caught herself when she was eye-level with a low table that sat two feet away from her.  
  
Azala squinted and studied the table closely, concentrating her search on the scratches embedded into the side of the table. The crudely carved inscription read: Long live Edea's orphanage, birthplace of SeeD!  
  
A twisted smile formed Azala's lips as she comprehended the inscription. This was the place she had been looking for. This was the place where she would get rid of all the SeeDs, and this is the place where she would get Ryan back.  
  
Or would die trying. 


End file.
